Late Night Nerves
by demitruli
Summary: [Canon, OS] 8x21. It's the night before the boards and when the nerves start kicking in, all Jackson needs is his best friend… and a few drinks. (Published as part of the "Japril Appreciation Week 2018" - Day 2: Favorite Japril scene as friends.)


He knew there was no way he was going to get some sleep anytime soon the second he laid down on the bed of his hotel room. It was too fluffy, too white. And it smelled too clean. But had the bed been the only problem he would just sleep on that small green couch at the corner instead. And how he wished the solution to his sleeplessness was that simple.

But he was certain as hell that even if he were lying on his own bed right now, he'd still be nowhere near sleeping. It was only inside walls that he knew _it_ was still there, coursing through his veins as if it hitched a ride on his blood cells. Anxiety. Nervousness. _Fear._

He'd spent the last five years of his residency training to become a surgeon. But those five years suddenly didn't even matter. The only thing that mattered, the only thing between him and the rest of his career was a test. In this random hotel, in this random city, with a random examiner asking him random questions. Kindergarten, high school, college, med school, residency, it all led to this moment.

And the moment had now come.

So yeah, he was freaking terrified. And, frankly, he had every reason to be.

He groaned and threw away the pillow that he had been pressing against his face for the past ten minutes, and it – _of course_ \- landed on the dresser, knocking a probably five hundred worth of dollars vase to the ground, resulting in the latter shuttering into a million pieces as it hit the floor.

The story of his life.

Whatever. He'd pay for it later.

He got off the bed and put his shoes on, before grabbing his room key –well, _card_ to be exact- and heading for the door. Good thing he hadn't taken his clothes off cause he had zero patience to put them back on again or even try to remember where he'd thrown them. He walked down the corridor, noticing the yellow and blue pattern of the floor and walls for the first time and wincing in response. Whose brilliant idea had that been? Someone really needed some redefinition of taste.

As he was walking, though, he realized he had no idea which turn he has supposed to take to head down to the bar/café. Cause he was eating tonight. Don't judge him, he had to build some inner strength for the day that was to come. But as he walked passed white door to white door, her suddenly came to the realization that he knew, in fact, where he was. He glanced over to the labels of the room numbers and soon smiled at the view of the one with the inscription '623'. Yep, he definitely knew where he was now.

He rushed to her door and lost no time to knock. A while passed before he heard her hurried footsteps nearing until she abruptly stilled. He recognized the creaking sound of the peephole cover being lifted.

He rolled his eyes. "You know you might as well save yourself from the struggle of reaching the spy hole by asking who it is. It's not like anyone could miss the sound of your slippers anyways."

The door opened wide right then, revealing the petite figure of the redhead he knew all too well. She was dressed in an airy, hot pink blouse and tight black jeans that really embraced the curves that she usually wasn't showing much. These same clothes she had been wearing that morning when he had taken a second to recognize her. And same went for now… until he glanced a bit lower and noticed the two oversized bunny heads inside which her feet were buried.

He snorted. Now, _this_ April he recognized.

"What do you want, Jackson?" she snapped at him, and he lifted his eyes from those monstrosities she called slippers to meet her hazel ones that were now filled with humored annoyance.

He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. I was heading down to eat something and thought you might want to join me."

She pursed her lips. "Nah. I don't think I can get anything down right now." Leaning closer, she raised her arm to touch his abdomen, giving him a light pat. "But you go fill that big belly of yours."

He licked his dry lips, a small smile beginning to form on his face. "You know dinner was in the price, right?" He pointed out, touching her soft spot. "By not eating it you're just wasting your own money."

She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again. She narrowed her eyes, then, and held a finger up towards him. "You are a jerk." She hissed through her teeth and grabbed her room card before pushing him out of her way and shutting the door behind her. Then she roamed towards the closest staircase.

He grinned widely, following her lead, and soon they were both sitting next to each other, with dishes filled with their food draped on the blue counter in front of them. Well, _his_ food to be exact. She still chose to have nothing but a glass of white wine. He chose scotch.

He ate his meal in silence and she didn't speak much either. As the minutes passed, he could see her growing all the more anxious beside him. Sometimes she run her hands through her hair, placing that particular lock that was acting up behind her ear, only for it to fall forward again and hide her face from him like a curtain. And occasionally, he watched her let out a sigh or play with her fingers nervously.

All adding up, he knew how nervous she must be; even more nervous than he was. He didn't know how that made him feel. On one hand, he was happy that he wasn't going through this alone. He was happy that he had her there with him, and he didn't know what on earth he would do if things were different. But on the other hand, he would do anything to see her free of all this stress and misery. He knew how much she was suffering right now.

When her next sigh came out trembling, he couldn't just stand and watch her anymore.

"Okay, what exactly is it that worries you so much?" he broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"I'm just…" she sighed again. "Nervous. It's the biggest exam of our lives."

That rebellious lock of hair was blocking his sight again, and he pushed it behind her ear. "You know what? That's not true. There are some tests coming up in your life; tests that will determine if you have cancer or not, or Alzheimer's or… like… bowl incontinence, which is far worse."

She cracked a smile and rolled her eyes, and he chuckled. "Those are the results that matter. This one is just a stupid series of questions, right? And if you get them wrong, you can try again next year." He said. He didn't know if he was trying to comfort her or his own self. Probably both.

April's face clouded again. "The next test is in June of 2013." She mumbled.

He didn't know that. Oh, _perfect._

"But you know what?" she nodded, placing her palms on the table in a gesture that was probably supposed to be determined. "You're right. We've studied all we can, and we're going to try our best tomorrow. Whatever is going to happen will happen. I just need to take my mind off of everything."

He pursed his lips. Then he gestured towards her empty glass.

"Good idea." She said approvingly and stood up, grabbing his glass as well to fill them both again.

The one glass quickly became two, though. Then three, four… Soon he stopped counting. He could feel the alcohol spreading familiar warmth through his veins, and the fuzz of intoxication that was beginning to kick in was most welcome. As the night was progressing, he noticed that soon she had completely relaxed too.

He noticed something else about her as well, though. Something that he already knew, but never had quite singled it out as a fact. It was impossible to ignore now, with the neon light enhancing the shadows on her face, making her hazel eyes gleam and her lips glisten softly. The alcohol had given her cheeks a rosy glow, which complimented nicely her usually pale face. And as she grinned her dimples were visible as ever, attracting his attention more than they normally did. Perhaps more than they should.

 _She's beautiful_ , he heard a voice say inside his head, and he didn't know whose voice it was but he agreed with it nonetheless.

He felt his mouth twist into a warm smile. April was beautiful in her own humble way, and that only added to it immensely. He was about to tell her all that out loud, but then he reconsidered. He knew she was only going to roll her eyes. And then ask him how much he had drunk.

He chuckled.

"What?"

He noticed her studying him, a tiny wrinkle of amused confusion between her eyebrows.

Instead of explaining he let out a small breath and met her eyes. He recalled when he had first met her, that first day in Mercy West when he had arrived late and in his panic he had bumped onto her, knocking her red notebook to the ground. He remembered how she began hanging out with Reed and he with Charles and then the four of the together; those late nights they used to play Monopoly inside on-call rooms, them watching with fascination their first surgeries from the gallery, chips and fizzy drinks draped on their laps.

And then he remembered that night after the shooting when they had both been too shaken to go home. They had spent all night on that bench outside the hospital's entrance, sitting next to each other in heavy silence; just apart enough for them not to touch but still be able to feel the heat radiating from each other's bodies. He remembered that occasionally he would glance at her and see unshed tears glisten in her eyes under the distant light of the lobby. Sometimes a single one escaped and rolled down her cheek, and she just let it, until it eventually dried off by the chilly winter breeze. She had only spoken one phrase that night, and he would never be able to forget the way her voice had sounded. "Please don't leave me alone now." She had whispered, the thought of losing all of her friends in a mere evening too torturing to handle. "I won't. I'm here." He had promised – he, too, chocking up.

He had kept that promise. For as long as he lived, he would keep it.

He didn't know why he was thinking of all these now, but the memories began flooding his head one after another. The times they had laughed and cried together, studied and fallen asleep together, the secrets they had shared in late night hours with voices not daring to rise over a whisper and gleams of mischief in their eyes. The past five years she had been the one person that brought color into his life. His memories were filled with that loud, bubbly laughter, the smell of apples, hair of autumn and eyes of golden sunsets.

His voice was dripping honey when he spoke next. "I love you."

April gaped at him, blinking rapidly for a second. "Okay… how drunk are you?"

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. Oh, how well he knew her.

She huffed along, grinning slightly. "Seriously!"

"Don't act so surprised. You're my best friend."

She smiled a bit at that. Then she took a sip of her drink, shrugging. "Well, I would hope so."

He chuckled again. Then, "No, seriously though. I don't know how I would do this without you next to me, freaking out over everything."

She gasped offended, punching his shoulder.

He grinned widely, barely feeling her strength. "And I really needed to relax a bit tonight. So thank you for coming down here with me. I really, really appreciate it."

His voice was entirely honest at that last bit, his face open.

She met his intense gaze, and her eyes' focus slightly faltered for a brief moment. It was long enough for him to register it, though.

And then she blinked, and that moment ended. "Don't mention it." She brushed it off and raised her glass up at him. "That's what best friends are for."

A small portion of his mind noticed that his heartbeat had slightly accelerated for some reason, but he paid it no attention. He raised his drink and clinked it with hers, the tinkle of glass on glass lost under the sounds of the busy bar.

There was a great possibility that he would fail the boards. He knew that. And that would be really hard on him. But he also knew that as long as he had her, he would be okay. As long as she was by his side he could suffer through anything.

But he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Tonight, this moment, they were both safe.

"Hey, we're still standing right?" she pointed out, as if she had just read his mind.

"Hell yeah we are", he lost no time to reply. "Me and you." And corny as it sounded, it felt exactly right.

The smile he earned in response was radiant, those hazel eyes that felt like home embraced him in their warm depths.

"Me and you." she agreed. And it was enough.

For now. Forever.


End file.
